


Flesh of the Passionfruit

by Lluvia185



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boat Sex, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, NSFW, R plus L equals J, Sex Talk, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lluvia185/pseuds/Lluvia185
Summary: Jon overheads Daenerys confessing Missandei no man has ever done to her what Grey Worm did to Missandei.





	Flesh of the Passionfruit

**Author's Note:**

> I took one of my own prompts >> (http://lluvia185.tumblr.com/post/167537806115/got-aus-prompts) and it turned out into a long very smutty fic. Enjoy it.

 

****

 

His steps echoed softly along the stone corridor. He had some documents in his hands and his mind was fully distracted drawing future plans. Perhaps that was why he didn’t hear their voices until he reached the half-closed door of Daenery’s chambers.

The queen was sitting on her bed, next to a half full trunk fiddling with a hand-mirror. Missandei was walking around filling said trunk with clothing.

“—got to told me about what _many things_ happened, you know?” Daenerys asked, her voice playful and her eyes slyly following her adviser around the room.

Missandei seemed to try and avoid the question until Daenery’s hand was placed on her forearm. She stopped and looked at the queen.

“It was wonderful.” She praised in a low voice.

“But… how??” Daenerys enquired. She made room on the bed, so the other woman could sit beside her. “He doesn’t have…?”

“The pillar and the stones?” Missandei provided.

“Precisely. How do you two…?” Daenerys insisted.

By that time Jon knew he shouldn’t be listening to that conversation. He should leave immediately, except he was afraid that if he tried to walk away then, he would be noticed.

“He was so gentle and loving, your grace.” The adviser confessed dreamily. Daenerys smiled fondly at her, but even trough the half-shut door Jon could tell she was intrigued by the actual ‘hows’. “He kissed me everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Dany repeated. Just by hearing the cadence of her question, Jon could perfectly recreate the queen’s arched eyebrow and the disbelief in her eyes.

“Everywhere.” Missandei affirmed. There were a few seconds of silence on which Jon painfully realised where this conversation was going to.

“You mean… he _kissed_ you… down _there_.”

He didn’t hear Missande’s answer or it wasn’t a verbal one. But then, he was fighting against a painful memory. One that shouldn’t be, one that it has been pleasant and a precious one at the time, but now the thought of it, brought other memories of a fiery redhead woman.

Daenerys’ voice carried away to him again, getting him back to the present.

“How was it?” She asked, and he just knew. She didn’t just ask as an attentive friend, but as someone who hasn’t had the experience of it. Jon had always been a bit prude about sex, but it was unimaginable to him that a man got married to such a woman a never tried to please her that way.

“I’ve never felt anything like it, your grace.” Missandei happily supplied without realising what Jon had.

“I see.”

There was a new prolonged silence in which Jon recalled the day he met the queen.

 _‘… I’ve been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled…_ ’

“Not even Daario, your grace?” He heard Missandei question and wondered who he might be, knowing it wasn’t her late husband.

“He may have mentioned it, but never got to it, and I saw no cause for complain since he was satisfying enough.”

Upon hearing Daenerys answer, Jon thought it was a very detached way to speak of a former lover. And he realised whoever this Daario might have been, he had never got a hold on the queen’s heart.

His mind flashed a picture of himself kneeling before Daenerys, kissing her properly and showing how she must be worship.

Jon cursed inwards. Lately, he had gotten more a and more carried away with these kinds of fantasies about her, particularly since he had gone back from the Wall. Since he had woke up with her sitting by his bed. Since he had held her hand and she his.

It was getting harder and harder to fight against _it_. More and more because it looked like she felt _it_ too. Like she wanted _it_ too.

Jon had always thought he would never be a father, too afraid of it to even think about. But when Daenerys had confessed she believed she couldn’t have children, her voice filled with sorrow, he thought if he could…

He couldn’t think of that. There was too much at stake.

 

Eventually, when the conversation between the queen and her advisor got redirected into something else. He knocked on the door, pretending he had just arrived.

He quickly left the documents he was carrying, on a bureau near the door, and leave hastily with a vague excuse.

 

* * *

 

 

*****

 

 

Jon had been pacing in his cabin for a while, reminding himself every argument of why this wasn’t a good idea.

He had been fighting this for a while, in truth since the very beginning. Since he had walked in that throne room and had laid his eyes on her. A queen so young, so beautiful… he had had to school his features and reminded himself why he was there. And then, they had been arguing and fighting each other and it should have made stop the attraction, but instead, it had made it grow.

It was a dangerous course, he knew it. He must focus on the war, on protecting his siblings, his people. He had done everything in his power to have a chance of survival and still he wasn’t sure they would make it through. Hells, a dragon hadn’t made it. What were their real chances?

He had already died once. He knew there wasn't anything there, on the other side.

He would probably die again soon.

And that was it.

If he was going to die, he would go and try this before. He won’t fight against it anymore.

 

Yet he was still there, looking at the Targaryen sigil forged on her door. His hands were sweating and his heart racing. He kept thinking over and over of what to say.

But when she opened the door, a question on her eyes, his words flown away.

How to voice what he wanted? How to tell her he admired her ferocity and her kindness? Or that he understood her pain and anger? He couldn’t, he didn’t know how.

But somehow, _somehow_ , he managed, because in a matter of seconds her face changed from doubt to understanding and finally to consent. She didn’t ask him, she opened the door for him and stepped away. She knew, of course, she knew. He went in, closed the door and turned to her.

They were standing face to face, his pulse was throbbing on his temples, his breathing heavy. Yet there she was, save for her bosom rising and failing a bit faster than usual, she was as collected and regal as ever.

They came close to each other, but he wouldn’t take the final step. He had already let the craving slipped twice.

The first one, he didn’t even notice until he was about to take her hand and got on her dragon. The second though it had been intentional – even if he had regretted later, partially because of her reaction – after the wall, after he had bent his knee, after trying the taste of calling something no one did, something private, intimate. He had retained her hand in his and almost, _almost_ said it, name it.

She had closed up, run away.

Therefore, he wouldn’t do it again.

Or maybe he was just scared, still not knowing how to this. How to take the final step. Still a virgin where it really matters.

She did it.

She came close, grabbed him by the doublet’s neck and kissed him.

He sighed heavily against her lips, a ‘finally and at last’.

 

Jon revelled in it for a few seconds. Then encircled her in his arms and kissed back hungrily.

It wasn’t sophisticated nor chaste. It was desperate and fiery. Clashing tongues and lips and teeth. Bodies pressed against each other and roaming, greedy hands.

His surcoat hit the floor before he realised she was unbuckling it. Jon slowed down the kiss while he unbuttoned and took her coat off.

She was wearing a knee-length grey tunic-dress underneath, but it was thin enough he could make up her forms and curves.

He pressed his forehead against hers, taking a minute to take it all in, to slow it down. He wanted to say lots of things, meaningful things, but his words were stuck in his throat.

They made him feel suffocated, choked by his own emotions.

Her fingers worked deftly on his doublet’s laces, while his hands were stilled on her waist, trying to regard some kind of control over himself.

The doublet and his shirt were quickly on the floor.

He raised his hands from her waist to her shoulders, caressing her sides and back on his way up, slow and lingering, steadying himself.

He wanted to take his time.

He kissed her jaw and behind her ear. Daenerys hands roaming over his back, they were warm but not as soft as you’d expect of a queen, but the hardened palms of a fighter, a survivor, a dragon rider.

Jon kissed her neck, firm and long enough to leave a mark on her pale skin, but not enough to make it permanent. He kept kissing her neck and collarbone while his hands worked on the shoulder’s fibula holding her dress up. Then, suddenly, the fabric dropped like a curtain of water slipping over her body until it pooled on her feet.

He looked up at her face, she was breathing heavy now. She looked back and kissed him, soft but thoroughly. Jon grabbed her by the waist and turned her back to the large, sturdy bed.

He really wanted to feel the softness of her breasts against his chest, the roundness of them pressed against him, but he refrained himself to get too close yet. Beyond everything else he wanted this to last, he wanted, _needed_ , to worship her, to show her what others should have before him but didn’t.

He sat her on the bed and slowly worked his way back to her neck. His right hand started to unlacing the side of her trousers, his left one travelled up until it reached her breast.

They both sighed upon the feeling.

He licked over her pulsing jugular, while his hand weighed and caressed her breast. Her nipple hardened between his fingers.

Daenerys tried to hold him closer, encircling him with her legs, but he shied away, lowering his face to her other breast. He kissed the side of it at the same time that, his left hand softly flickered and pinched her rosy stiffened nipple.

She grabbed the furs on the bed and panted, arching her body towards him.

Jon’s mouth slowly worked his way around her breast until he reached her nipple and licked it. When she whimpered, he sucked on it while pinching the other, earning a full deep moan. He moved his face to the other breast and kissed her nipple before stepping back.

Daenerys eyed him, affronted and confused until he lifted one of her legs to take away her boots and lastly her trousers and small clothes.

And when she was finally, all gloriously naked in front of him, he took a few seconds to admire the view.

So fucking _beautiful_.

 

He positioned himself between her creamy athletic thighs, but not close enough for his still clothed erection to graze her.

Out of the blue, he suddenly heard himself asking.

“Tell me again.” His voice even hoarser than usual. Daenerys gave him a puzzled glance, he didn’t minded because he wasn’t even sure himself of why he was demanding it.

“Ask me again.” He insisted nonetheless, it took her a moment, then she frowned, confused.

“You mean…?”

“Aye, say it again.” He repeated.

She propped herself on her forearms and deliberately slow, she asked him. “Will you bend the knee?”

In an equally slow, luscious way, he knelt. He kissed her on the inner thigh right above her left knee.

“I pledge myself to you,” He kissed her a bit upwards, his beard softly scratching her soft skin. “I will shield your back,” He spread her thighs further, not knowing where the hells all that oath was coming from, but afraid that if he stopped, he might swear a different, more permanent and even meaningful vows. “And keep your counsel,” He kissed her other thigh, her glistening wet sex two inches from his face. “And give my life for you if need be.” He licked her outer folds, earning and amazed gasp.

He raised his eyes, her face was flushed but he didn’t know if it was only due to her arouse or something more. He waited till she gave him an approving nod to taste her again. She panted deeply, but not as surprised. Jon got settled between her thighs and began to explore her.

He licked her outer folds and then spread her to taste her inner ones. Daenerys laid down on the bed moaning and panting. But after a few minutes, she also began to thrash around the bed, her hips pressing against Jon’s face.

He was licking and lapping her but not where she wanted it the most. He knew it, of course. He was purposely delaying it, but when she called his name with an uncharacteristically beg, he yielded. Jon tentatively flickered his tongue over the hidden bud between her folds, Daenerys’s body jolted and she gasped loudly. When he repeated the motion, she grabbed his hair and planted her feet on the bed in order to be able of pushing herself against him.

He looked up at her face, her eyes closed in deep concentration, a resolute zealous expression on her face, close to the one he had seen her showing when she was on top of her dragon. And fuck it, if get her to look that way, made him feel powerful and proud, so be it.

Jon circled her right thigh with an arm and got venturous with his other hand. He pushed his right index inside her, amazed at how utterly wet she was. Her moans mixed with his heavy breathing and the splashing sound of her flesh, the only sounds in the cabin.

Jon started to penetrate her with his finger while he kissed her folds and bud, but it didn’t seem to increase her pleasure much, so instead, he tried to move his finger inside of her.

“Oh… curve… curve it up.” She pointed and he obeyed. “Aahh… yes…”

He looked up again, her body was taut as the string of a bow, on the verge of falling, but not there yet. He added a second finger and curve it up like she had asked, then he placed his mouth over her bud and gently sucked on it.

Daenerys opened her eyes wide and wild for a second, then she closed them tight and cried out, exploding all around him. Her legs and the hand on his hair began to tremble, her inside walls spasmed around his fingers. He kept his mouth and fingers going while it lasted and until she fell back on the bed panting and shuddering.

Jon got up, he rubbed his arm against her wet beard and mouth. He took off his boots and finally unlaced his trousers and small clothes, which pooled around his ankles while his erection sprang free and painfully hard along with a strangled whimper. He crawled onto the bed next to Daenerys, who was still coming down from her rapture.

He caressed her shoulder and face and grazed her lips with his thumb, he wanted to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure if she would like to taste herself in his mouth. She finally opened her eyes and managed to focus on his face. Jon couldn’t recall anyone gazing _him_ so worshipful and dotting ever before. She placed her hand over his heart to propped herself up and fervently kissed him.

Daenerys rearranged herself on top of him. The feel of her soft and so, _so_ warm body over him finally broke his resolution, he turned themselves over until he was on top of her. She spread herself open, and he didn’t need much guidance to enter in her with just one tortuous thrust. The feeling of her was so overwhelming he had to stop kissing her. Again he wanted to say something, to explain himself, but he couldn’t find the words. Yet her gaze back told him, she knew, and she was there too, with him, so he let go the last restraint.

He kissed back and began to move in her, with her.

It took almost no time for their moves to became more desperate and frenzy, for their mouths to stop kissing each other and mainly panted and moaned, their foreheads pressed together. Her legs up and around him, one of her hands on the back of his shoulder, the other on his buttocks pushing him in, no doubt leaving the marks of her nails on his skin.

His thrusts became deeper but erratic, their bodies sweating with the effort. Jon was just on the verge of it, but he was holding back his release until she did. He changed the angle of his moves, almost kneeling on the bed until he found the perfect one in which she gasped and trembled and finally exploded around him, eliciting his own moans of release.

They kept panting together after it. Daenerys legs shaking around him, his hips still thrusting into her reflexively, his head resting on her breasts, hearing her heart beating wildly and slowly coming down to a normal pace.

After a few minutes, he tried to turn them over, but she tightened her hold on him, not ready to let him go. He kissed her neck, and instead, he turned them, so both they were resting on their sides, facing each other. Her eyes shone full of sentiment for a few seconds before she closed them and pressed her forehead against his.

He observed her and waited for her to open her eyes again.

“I love you.” The words tumbled down from his throat where they’d been choking him for so long, repressed, unformed but there.

But for all they have been through together, she still stared at him astounded, a bit scared.

“Jon… I… I… can’t” Daenerys saw the hurt in his eyes as plain as one see the sun in the sky. She cupped his face, forcing him to look at her again. “I told you… I can’t have children.”

He frowned bewildered at first, but then he looked at her as how she had begun to identify as the first symptoms of annoyance.

“I don’t care.” He growled. She shook her head to reject his statement, but he interrupted her before she can utter the first word. “I never thought I’d have them. I oathed I would not.”

“You are not on the Night Watch anymore.” She explained to him. Daenerys needed him to understand it, she knew he didn’t believe she was barren, but it wasn’t just some nonsense a witch had said to her. She had laid with Daario multiple times after it, she had only missed her moonblood once since, and it came after a few weeks. She wouldn’t be able to put up with his disappointment if he thought it may be a possibility. “You are a king now.”

Jon grabbed her by the wrist, her hand still cupping his face.

“But I’m not.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off again. “I bent the knee, didn’t I?”

Her pupils dilated recalling his oath and his very intimate kisses.

“Yes.” She breathed, closing her eyes a few seconds so she could recollect her thoughts. “You still are the Lord of Winterfell, lords need heirs.”

“Any of my sisters can be the heir.” He cupped her face now too, trying to make her understand. “I don’t want your womb, your throne or your crown, I just want you, _Dany_.”

She pressed her forehead against his and closed her eyes. She had told him before not to call her that, but when he said it like that, with his deep voice full of sentiment and his northern accent, the moniker felt so intimate and caring, she couldn’t find a reason to scold him.

“What about my dragons?” She taunted him to lighten the humour. He offered one of his small smiles.

“Aye, your dragons too.”

She smiled too before moving back to be able to look at his face properly.

“I just don’t want you to regret it.”

“Regret what?”

“Me, us.” She tried to explain herself. “If you ever… you may not want children now, but you may want them at some point.”

Jon couldn’t help himself and smile, because unknowingly and perhaps unwillingly yet, she’d just admitted she was thinking of a future together.

She frowned obviously taking his smile the wrong way. Jon schooled his features and cupped her face to get her attention.

“I know you think I don’t believe that witch, and I don’t,” Daenerys frown deepened and she sighed almost angered. “But is not for the reason you think.”

“Isn’t it?” She said annoyed by his statement.

“No. It’s not for me. Is for you.” Jon explained.

“I already accepted it.” In truth, she hasn’t and that also annoyed her. Her ability to breed and bear an heir had turned her into a bargaining chip for Viserys and into no much more than a slave for Drogo. But when Rhaego had been alive and kicking inside of her, she had wanted him. Finally, someone who would be hers, someone to be able to love just because she wanted, not out of duty or necessity. But then…

She thought she had accepted it, that she would have her dragons and her people, her throne and lovers when she wanted them, and she would be satisfied, content.

Then she met him.

And she finally understood why women wanted to bear children for their men.

She had thought about this, about having him in her bed. She thought it would be satisfying having this great warrior pleasuring her just like it had been with Daario. With him, most of the appealing had been his submission to her and if she was honest, after Drogo had stopped raping her, his submission to her wishes had appealed to her enough to be able to care about him.

At first, she had imagined something similar happening with Jon. But when he finally had bent the knee she hadn’t felt proud of herself or elated. She had felt… honoured and for the first time in a long time, a bit undeserved. And when he had claimed his queen in Dragon’s pit, she hadn’t felt proud of herself but of him.

So she had tried to warn him about her inability to bear an heir.

But she saw now she was warning herself, making herself remember she couldn’t give him a child, she wouldn’t be able to make him smile holding their firstborn, or laughing with a fiery little girl with his hair and her eyes.

For the first time in a very long time, she wanted something she won’t be able to take, and it hurts. But it would break her if he ever threw it in her face.

“I wish I could give you that, Dany.” He whispered, his voice low and full of sentiment. “I’ve seen how much it hurts you, to be alone, the last one. And I wish I could give you that.”

Her vision blurred, tears clouding her eyes. This man who had given her everything he had, his kingdom, his pledge, his word, he almost gave his life to save her and her dragons and had asked nothing for _him_. Her armies, her dragons even the dragonglass wasn’t for him, he wanted them for his people, for everyone’s, she knew now. Sure, he wanted her, but even when he got her he had been generous, more generous than any men had been with her. But she knew men, men in power always want an heir, a son to carry their legacy, but Jon Snow was dead set on contradicting her even in this.

She cupped the back of his head and kissed him, hard and full of sentiment, her tears rolling down her cheeks until she could taste them on her lips. He opened his mouth and deepen the kiss matching her intensity. His hand slid down to her waist and she pressed her body against his, Daenerys felt his manhood against her belly stirring back to life. She grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him to his back. She stopped the kiss and looked at his face while positioning herself above him. Her silver hair falling like a curtain around her, as she straddled him, she lowered herself to kiss his lips, soft and short before her mouth wandered to his cheek, his jaw, found the perfect spot in his neck were it made him moan and his manhood twitching against her ass cheek. Her hands began to caress his chest before she lowered to kiss and lick each and every one of his scars as if she would be able to obliterate them from his body with the power of her will.

Jon's hands were caressing her thighs and buttocks in an absent way, while he tried to fight back his moans. Daenerys didn’t know why he almost seemed to deny his own pleasure, but she was determined on him becoming undone by her. She had seen him, while he was kissing her most delicate flesh, the proud look on his face when she became wild and begging for her release.

She wanted that. She wanted him begging and moaning by her actions, the feel of power the thought brought to her was intoxicating. She looked down from where she was kissing his scars on his abdomen, his manhood was twitching and growing but not fully erect yet. She wondered if she could kiss him there like he had kissed her, she had never contemplated the thought before. She knew men paid whores to do that, so she pegged the act as something degrading and never cross her mind to do anything like it.  Until now.

She looked up to Jon, his eyes half open and his breathing increasing, but she wanted him loose, begging.

She crawled down over him, kissing him all the way. But he didn’t discern her intentions until his erection grazed her breasts and her hair fell around his waist.

“Daenerys?” He called her astonished.

“Have anyone kissed you here?” She asked unfazed, he shook his head. “Good.”

She lowered her face, her cheek pressed against his thigh while she looked at his manhood. She pressed her lips to its side by the base, then she licked her lips and kissed it again. She opened her mouth to taste the skin, it was soft but she could feel the sturdy flesh underneath. A pulsing vein was near her mouth and she followed it with her tongue. Jon cursed when her tongue reached the head of his erection. She looked at his flushed face, his half-open lips breathing hard and ragged. She licked the head, the taste was strange, unlike anything she ever tasted, but not unpleasant. She realized her heart was beating loudly against her ribcage and her womb was quickening and pulsing, apparently pleasuring him, give her pleasure to her body too.

It was an elating thought.

She took the head of his manhood into her mouth and sucked lightly like breastfeeding baby. Jon growled and gripped the furs so hard she thought he might rip them.

She loved it. It did was a powerful feeling indeed, being able to make him wild and loose like that. She took more of his hard flesh into her mouth and sucked it again, never looking away from his face.

He moaned and cursed. His hand reached the back of her head and his fingers tangled into her hair, but he never pull it or push her head, it was like he needed to be connected to her, to touch her.

She grabbed the base of his erection and took as much as she could into her mouth, while he almost cried out with joy.

“You gorgeous creature, my extraordinary queen.” He encouraged her, she wasn’t sure he knew what he was saying though, but she did like it.

She kept going a few minutes, but suddenly she felt the hand in her head trying to stop her. She looked up to his face, his eyes' pupils blown black, his hair a wild mass of curls, his chest breathing hard. She didn’t understand at first what he said, then he repeated loudly.

“Daenerys, ride me.”

She knew he had said those words knowingly, but she wasn’t sure until what point he knew how much they meant to her.

She released his manhood with a wet sound and climbed his body while intensively staring at each other. She straddled him and positioned above his erection. He gripped her hips, but again he didn’t push her or guide her, just hold her. She sank into him in a slow, voluptuous move. His eyes rolled back once he was fully sheathed in her, Daenerys arched back a bit and placed one hand on his thigh to support herself.

Then she rode him.

Her moves resembled the ones she had mastered during her time with the Dothraki, but at the same time, she looked for the angles that made the friction between them felt glorious. Every time she leant back, one of his hands caressed her from her belly to the apex of her sex and elicit a jolt of pleasure through her body.

As she began to pick up the pace, he also began to shove his hips up, it wasn’t like riding a horse anymore, it was close to the feeling of riding Drogon, raw, thrilling and wild. He answered back, so she must have shared some of that thought.

“Aye, my dragon rider.” He punctuated his words with a thrust of his hips, his voice thick with lust.

She knew he was closer to his release than her but at the moment she didn’t care. She wanted him to lose the last piece of self-restraint, she wanted him becoming undone under her ministrations.

She added a swirl of her hips to her ridding, Jon’s eyes fluttered closed and he cursed, his hands deepen the grip on her hips and waist, still, he didn’t try to take over her moves. It felt empowering and exhilarating, for him to take what she wanted to give him, to accept her in control without trying to take over and without her needing to establish it.

Yet paradoxically his lack defiance now, made her want to share the control. She took his left wrist and dragged his hand to her breast, his rough hand fondled her with gusto, pinching and pulling her hard nipple until she arched and moaned above him, her hips ridding him furiously but out of sync.

“Dan… Dany, I’m… I’m...” He couldn’t articulate the words, but she knew, she could feel his manhood throbbing inside of her. In an unanticipated whim, she stopped her motions, him fully sheathed in her, her walls fluttering tight around him. His hand left her breast to grabbed hard by her hips, while his own hips shoved up into her by reflex as he cried out. “Seven hells… Dany!”

She felt him throbbing and pulsating inside of her and all of the sudden, her release washed over her and exploded at her core, eliciting a few sharp moans as her walls tightened and spasmed around him welcoming his seed into her.

She fell haphazardly boneless on top of him, his arms wrapping quickly around her, his hips thrusting unconsciously throughout the end of his release. They were both panting in exhaustion and she never felt better in her whole life.

Daenerys turned her head to looked at his face, an unconcealed smile appearing on her lips. His hair was an unruled mane that made him look younger and he stared at her with such an awe, callow expression, that coerced a burst of jolly laugh from her.

He laughed softly in return and she realized it was the first time she had seen more than a shadow of a smile on him, she loved the sight of it. She _loved_ him. Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought and he noticed.

“What?” He asked her concerned.

Did she ever say it to anyone? She couldn’t remember. But it never felt like this before, like drowning and bursting at the same time.

“I love you.” She whispered it quietly, but the words carried as much weight as if she had announced with drum rolls and a royal decree.

The look of wonder and complete bliss on his face worth the terrified feeling from uttering the words.

“Dany.” He whispered, his voice hoarse and full of sentiment, like this pet name he stubbornly kept saying, held more worship and adoration than any god’s name he knew.

She stroked his face, her fingers lingering over the small scar above his eye. She felt like crying and laughing at the same time and it was the most absurd and best feeling she ever felt.

He turned them to the side, pressed his forehead against hers and inhaled deeply before embraced her as close as he could. She cradled the back of his head and buried her face in between his neck and shoulder.

After some time his hold loosened up and she felt herself drift to sleep. She turned around before falling completely asleep, her back pressed against his chest, his thighs against hers and his arms tightly wrapped around her middle. She laced her fingers with his and placed their hands between her breasts.

She never felt safer and more cherished in her whole life. For this night it would only be them, the rest of the world, all the threats and troubles, will have to wait until the morning.

And when the morning comes, they’ll face them together.

 

***The end***


End file.
